


The Troupe’s Traitor

by Bugs_n_Threnodies



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 09:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugs_n_Threnodies/pseuds/Bugs_n_Threnodies
Summary: The night before Xero’s execution, Grimm appears with an offer.Join Grimm’s Troupe in exchange for the chance to live.
Relationships: The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	The Troupe’s Traitor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrawberryCoolatta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryCoolatta/gifts).



The corridor of cells was dark and dreary, small droplets of water dripping from the ceiling. Rain pattered at the walls and the methodical footsteps of the sentries outside were dulled by the thick cobblestone walls. A dung beetle patrolled the long hall, a nail in his grasp and a hum in his throat He stopped in front of a cell, the song stopping as he gazed at the prisoner inside. 

The prisoner was an oddity at first sight. Their helmet covered all of their face, the crescent horns almost glinting off the dim lumafly light. Their shredded cloak was dirty and tattered more than it originally had been. Their crimson armor, covering every inch of their body, was a little darker in the shadows of the cell. At the dung beetle’s approach, the bug lifted their head to glare. Their eyes were orange and small tears of the same color trickled down the heart cutout that provided the only glimpse at the bug’s actual face, though it didn’t make much of a difference, resembling the inky black shadows of the Ancient Basin. 

“My friend,” the dung beetle began, “I’m afraid tonight is your last night here.”

“Tomorrow’s the execution,” the bug hissed, voice hoarse and echoey. Whether the latter was from the exhausted vocal chords or the helmet was unknown. 

“I’m afraid so,” the dung beetle replied, sympathy eeking into his voice. “It will be at the first sign of daybreak and shown to the public of the city. The Pale King wants to set an example.”

The prisoner didn’t reply. The dung beetle was almost glad. He lowered his nail, realizing the prisoner showed no sign of a threat, especially not when there was a set of bars between the two. 

“I wish you a last restful sleep, Xero.”

\---------------------------------------------------

The Troupe was in need of new members. 

The Nightmare Heart demanded more as of late. The trio of Brumm, Divine, and the troupemaster himself would never be enough to meet said demands on their own, and Gods forbid the Grimmkin be of any use in their years of serving the Troupe. 

Grimm despised the kingdom’s capital. The City of Tears was a vast place, rain constantly pattering down from the skies. In Grimm’s humble opinion, the place was appropriately named. Being in the city made the troupemaster want to cry.

The streetlights served their intended purpose, giving the City of Tears some light. Grimm walked along the dark cobblestone streets, buildings on either side of him. In truth, he was stalling, not wanting to visit the Pale King at that particular moment. He doubted he could sit through another long meeting, especially one regarding the recent rise of an infectious disease. Those tended to carry on for quite some time. 

A few sentries were ahead, patrolling the streets, and Grimm made to avoid them. He did not want to talk to any of the guards, nor did he want them to spot him. The chances of one running to tell the King of his arrival were almost guaranteed.

As he made to slip into an alley, he caught wind of the sentries’ conversation. The troupemaster shook his head silently, not wanting to hear about the drivel of the city reports. 

“We must be on high alert during tomorrow’s execution. We don’t want any uninvited guests, after all.”

Well, that caught Grimm’s attention. He paused, having heard no word about any execution, nevertheless one happening in a timed 9 hours or so. 

Thankfully, the other sentry seemed just as confused as Grimm was. “There’s an execution?”

“Yeah, and a public one, no less. I guess the Pale King really wants to make an example while he can. Maybe it’ll teach the Old Light a thing or two about sending assassins to do her dirty work.”

The other sentry inclined their armored head. “An attempted assassination, you say? Did they… come close to doing the deed?”

There was a silence before both sentries burst into laughter. Grimm rolled his eyes at the unprofessional attitude. He would’ve left by now, but he was missing one crucial detail that would ensure his decision. 

The sentries calmed down, the taller one wiping their eye. “Of course they didn’t. Even with the Old Light backing them up. Sir Ogrim is patrolling the corridor of cells where the perpetrator is being held as we speak. It’s unlikely for him to let anyone in or out.”

That was all Grimm needed to hear. He turned away from the sentries, walking briskly and doing his best to avoid as much rain as possible (a personal vendetta against the accursed weather). As soon as he was out of earshot, he vanished in a puff of red smoke. 

He had a prison to visit. 

\--------------------------------------------

Time went much slower when there was nothing to tell it with. 

At any moment, the escorting guard could knock on the iron bars and Xero’s life would flash in his mind before the light (literally) left his eyes. He was never sure what happened to those who died. He had never been lucky enough to come across a ghost and find out. He supposed it hardly mattered anymore. 

(He made a small promise to himself in that moment, to tell any bug who would ask his ghost about death).

Ogrim hadn’t visited in a while, but he had no reason to. His job was to make sure nobody would be coming to save the lone prisoner. If he were in the right of mind, Xero would’ve absolutely reassured the dung beetle that no one was coming. He worked solo physically, but mentally, he had a partner in crime. 

That partner was a goddess, so it was probably more along the lines of boss and employee, but Xero liked to convince himself it was a partnership. 

(It wasn’t).

The concept that the insanity of the Infection was starting to finally fully grasp him occured when he thought he saw the smoke. It was sudden, the bright crimson color doing absolutely nothing to illuminate the dark corridor. That was, until red flames licked to life, about two of them, floating in the air. 

The flames shed light on the bug conjuring them. They were dressed in black, for the most part, but the red glow beautifully illuminated the bug’s white mask(?), their eyes as red as the scarlet flames. Soft snickering sounded from the bug and it was revealed that the bearers of the flames were actually small little things, hovering in place with white masks similar to the taller bug’s. 

“Greetings.” Their voice was raspy and Xero almost flinched at the sudden startle of it. “I overheard your unfortunate predicament from the sentries in this miserable city and have come with an offer.”

“What kind of offer?” Xero’s tone was nothing short of hostile and untrusting. He held himself back from this visitor. 

“As you know, your execution is to be tomorrow in the day.” Grimm wasn’t sure why he was telling this bug the obvious. “However, I recognize you during my brief travels to the Palace.”

That much was true. He wasn’t too sure what this bug did for a job before he was infected, but it must have been one of the higher positions to have such easy access to the King.

“Get to the point,” was the hostile reply. 

Grimm almost rolled his eyes as the Grimmkin beside him snickered. “I want you to join my Troupe in exchange for keeping your life. Under the Nightmare Heart, you’ll be looked after and the King’s rule will not hinder your commanded duties.”

The bug hardly hesitated. “Deal.”

Grimm had prepared for this answer. Wordlessly, he snapped his fingers and the Grimmkin took action, one of them holding out their flaming staff to the bug. The other took the staff, observing the flame as they gripped it tightly. 

The orange drained from their eyes and the white that took over was almost as pure as the Pale King’s.

**Author's Note:**

> In relation to [this](https://hollowknightheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/644679586718875648/au-where-xero-is-part-of-the-grimm-troupe) post.


End file.
